


Lift Home?

by WhatsYourNameMan



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 1940s, Car rides, Fluff, M/M, Other, World War II, a lil bit of angst, consecrated ground, deserved death of a Nazi is mentioned, during the air raid, ‘You go too fast for me crowley’ taken literally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 08:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20423018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatsYourNameMan/pseuds/WhatsYourNameMan
Summary: After Crowley saves Aziraphale from being shot by Nazis, they share a ride to Aziraphale’s bookshop.





	Lift Home?

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my angel who asked why no one had fic’ed this conversation yet and therefore I had to do it.

“Oh, the books! I forgot all the books!”

Crowley did his best to repress a smirk as he sauntered over to a pile of rubble beneath which a Nazi had been very deservedly buried. Said Nazi’s fist stuck out from the pile clutching Aziraphale’s prized tomes. Crowley yanked the bag free with a small grunt.

“Oh, they’ll all be blown to…” Aziraphale trailed off.

“Little demonic miracle of my own.” Crowley dropped the bag into Aziraphale’s hands. “Lift home?”

He meandered off towards the Bentley, willing himself to stay cool. It proved much harder than usual. He could feel the angel’s eyes burning into him, but still he restrained himself from looking back.

Aziraphale, meanwhile, was having a crisis. Crowley had saved his books. He’d saved his life as well, though that was hardly the first time. This was the first time, however, that the demon, or anyone for that matter, had ever stopped to realize what Aziraphale valued most. Anyone else wouldn’t have given the books any thought, but Crowley did. He understood. Aziraphale’s corporation was replaceable (though it required such inconvenient paperwork); the books were not. 

He didn’t realize he was gawking until Crowley finally turned to look back at him from the Bentley. 

“You coming, then?”

Aziraphale snapped back to attention. “Yes, yes. Coming, my dear.” 

Crowley hesitated. The angel often used that term of endearment, but this time… Crowley shook his head. He was imagining things. He ducked into the car. A moment later, Aziraphale joined him, and the Bentley sped off through London. 

They sat in silence for a good deal of the ride, Aziraphale clutching his books as if doing so could control Crowley’s reckless careening through the city. 

As they neared the bookshop, Crowley ever so slightly slowed down. Aziraphale relaxed just a little bit. Finally, he broke the silence.

“That really was very kind of you.”

“I said don’t mention it.”

“Well, I won’t mention it again, but I do want you to know…” He placed a gentle hand over Crowley’s on the steering wheel. “That was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Crowley felt a spike of panic burn through his chest. He wrenched the steering wheel to the left, pulling his hand away from the angel’s and sending the Bentley crashing around the corner. He slammed on the brakes in front of Aziraphale’s bookshop.

With as much indifference as he could muster, Crowley said, “Here you are.”

“Is there any way I can repay you?” Aziraphale asked, trying to meet Crowley’s eyes. Even if he hadn’t been wearing his glasses, it would have been impossible. Crowley didn’t want to be seen, and so he wasn’t.

“No repayment needed.” 

“But surely you must need rest. Walking on consecrated ground… Why don’t you stay here for the night?”

“Angel…”

“After all, your apartment is all the way on the other side of the city, and there’s a raid going on, you know.”

Crowley could barely hear the angel’s words over the beat of his own heart. “I—ngk”

“My dear,” Aziraphale said softly, and Crowley finally turned to meet his eyes. “It’s quite all right. I won’t tell anyone what you did tonight.”

Crowley was silent for a moment. He turned to look back out the window, propping his arm against the window sill and leaning his head against it in obviously feigned boredom. “Well, all right. ‘F you insist.”

Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley was grateful to be wearing sunglasses or else the brilliance of that smile would have blinded him. “I’ll put on the kettle.” 

The angel got out of the car. Crowley lingered for a moment. He checked to make sure Aziraphale’s back was turned to him, and in the safety of darkness, he allowed himself to grin. Not one of the sarcastic smirks Aziraphale was used to receiving from him; a genuine smile. 

Aziraphale turned back from the entrance of the bookshop. 

“Are you coming, my dear?”

Crowley quickly wiped the smile off his face and stepped out of the car. 

“Yes, all right angel, I’m coming.”


End file.
